


Rest

by poppycurls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e04 Unruhe, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Episode: s04e04 Unruhe, Protective Mulder, Season/Series 04, Sleepovers, Worried Mulder, Worried Scully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppycurls/pseuds/poppycurls
Summary: It was Mulder’s name she screamed, voice ricocheting off the walls. It was Mulder’s name she kept thinking about, promising herself he would come for her and promising herself that she would remember his name if he came too late. She had poured all her confidence in him, telling herself to keep talking because he would get there any minute. This dependency scares her a little bit.But she’s not the only one who has that dependency. She can also hear Mulder’s voice in her head – the way he banged on the side of the trailer, bellowing her name like his life depended on it. She could still his frantic calls as he smashed through the door, gun raised and pupils wide.





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> me??? writing hurt/comfort? wow who would have thought it's not like i write or read anything else

Scully’s case report sits open on her computer, cursor blinking at the end of her last sentence. It’s been over an hour since she’s finished it, yet closing the document seems impossible. It ads finality to the case – something she’s not sure she’s ready for yet. She can still feel the marks on her skin where the duct tape pinned her down, and if she closes her eyes, she can see Schnauz’s face looming over hers, weapon poised and ready to strike. 

Now she leans heavily against her kitchen countertop, eyes trained on the computer. She nurses a cup of coffee, safe from her case report in the other room. She isn’t ready to turn the file in the next morning, where Skinner would read it and lock it away to gather dust. Schnauz’s face is still so clear, his words haunting her. She’s torn between sheer terror at her most recent near-death experience and the realization that she sympathized with her attacker, understanding why he felt the need to reduce her to nothing more than an empty shell. To cope with this, she sips at her coffee, staring into the next room. 

Scully really shouldn’t be drinking coffee this late, but she has no intention of getting any sleep. Last night, she had returned to her motel room late in the evening, after going through a harrowing number of police interviews. They finally proclaimed Schnauz dead a few hours later, and after that, she and Mulder had gone straight to the motel. She could almost feel his worry coming off him in waves, but he never said a word to her, opting instead for their traditional silence. Once back in her room, she stood in the shower for over an hour, then sat down and forced herself to watch TV all night. She was scared to sleep, worried that if she woke up she might see Schanuz looming over her again or worse, that she might never wake up at all. Though she knew these fears were completely irrational, Scully sat there the whole night, throwing herself into a mindless soap opera. 

In the morning, Mulder kept his silence, only commenting on which airport they were headed to and what time their flight was. He knows she likes to bottle up her feelings, and he respects that about her, never overstepping. His presence is comforting, though, and once Scully is wedged between him and the plane window, she lets herself drift off for an hour, counting on exhaustion to give her a dreamless sleep. 

Now, though, her thoughts are a mess, and that paired with baseless, uncontrollable fear was enough to turn her coffee pot on. 

A knock rings through the apartment, and the coffee slips from her hands, landing on the floor with a resounding crash. Scully reaches for her gun, limbs flying. “Who’s there?” she calls, edging away from the door. 

“It’s me.” Scully would know that baritone anywhere. She sighs and puts down her gun, hurrying to unlock the door. 

Mulder fills her doorway, dressed in his usual dress shirt and tie. He takes in Scully’s pulled up hair, glasses, and gray sweatsuit with a small smile. “Hey. What are you up to?”

“Just finishing off the case report, why?” When Mulder doesn’t saying anything, she presses on. “Did you need something?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?” 

“No reason. Just … needed somewhere to go.” 

Scully is surprised by his honesty, having half expected him to come equipped with a new case or a delusional theory as an excuse. She notices the bags under his eyes, and she wonders if she wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep last night. She steps aside, nodding to the living room, and lets him in.

Mulder passes the shattered mug without comment, but she notices the way his eyebrows raise a bit. She grins sheepishly, and begins to clean it up, offering no explanation. Mulder makes himself comfortable on her couch, flipping through a discarded magazine on her coffee table. 

“Do you want something to drink? A beer?” Scully calls from the kitchen. 

“Sure.” 

Scully brings drinks over and settles down next to him, careful to keep her distance. She reaches for the remote, and together, they sit through a documentary, both pretending to be interested in its content. 

Scully’s mind drifts, and her eyelids start to close against her own will. Having Mulder next to her takes some of the edge off, but she forces herself to stay awake. Once the documentary finishes, she stands before another one can start. 

“I’m going to go to bed soon,” she comments. This is a lie, of course. She’s going to come right back to this couch and force herself to watch something else, but Mulder doesn’t need to know that. Having him stay any longer would make him realize that she wasn’t planning on ever going to bed, and she didn’t want to worry him further. 

“Alright.” Mulder stands too, and he starts reaching for the empty bottles. “I’ll clean this up and then I’ll leave in a few minutes.” 

Scully nods, excusing herself, and heads towards the bathroom. She’s almost there when she hears a soft ‘thanks’ behind her. Scully offers Mulder a smile, then she heads to the bathroom sink, shutting the door behind her. 

There, she takes a good five minutes to scrub her face with cold water, desperate to wake herself up. By the time she’s finished, she expects Mulder to be gone, but he’s still there, standing at her desk and frowning at her computer screen. He looks up when Scully enters the room, expression unreadable. 

“Scully …” he trails off. 

“Yes?” Scully’s voice is sharp. She doesn’t want to have this conversation now. She’s not sure if she ever does. 

“Did it really bother you that much?”

“No,” Scully lies. She’s horrified to feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she swallows the ball in her throat, determined not to cry. 

Thankfully Mulder, across the dimly-lit room, notices nothing. “I can’t believe you thought that Schnauz was in the right here.”

“I didn’t say that –"

Mulder cuts her off. “You do know what he was planning to do to you, right? You saw the photo, he was going to leave you for dead just like those other women.” His voice has an edge to it, and once again she’s forcefully reminded just how dangerous he gets when hunting down people who’ve hurt her. Scully files this information in the back of her head for later. 

“We have dangerous jobs, Mulder, you know that.” Scully knows this isn’t what Mulder was commenting on, but she knows it’s what’s at the heart of it. “Agents get hurt all the time. Even you. When you were drugged last time with the Teliko, I thought …” This time, Scully trails off, unbidden images of Mulder’s limp body shoved in a vent coming to her mind. This is a dangerous topic for her to talk about when she’s feeling so vulnerable. 

“Yes, but, Scully, this happens to you far too often. It’s Duane Barry all over again.” Mulder runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes.

“It’s nothing like that.” But even as she says this, Scully is crossing the room to stand in front of Mulder. She wraps her arms around him and lowers his head to her shoulder, reminding her of Teena Mulder’s hospital room not too long ago. Mulder hunches over, and she can hear his shaky breathing. She runs her nails along his hairline and neck with one hand, and traces his spine with the other. 

If only she could forget about Schaunz and his dark trailer turned prison. Her own voice rings in her mind, pleading with Schaunz to let her go. Gerry, she kept saying, as though whispering his name over and over would get her out of there. Gerry, she called him, using his first name and desperately trying to understand where he was coming from. 

But that wasn’t the only name Scully had said in the trailer, she reminds herself. It was Mulder’s name she screamed, voice ricocheting off the walls. It was Mulder’s name she kept thinking about, promising herself he would come for her and promising herself that she would remember his name if he came too late. She had poured all her confidence in him, telling herself to keep talking because he would get there any minute. This dependency scares her a little bit. 

But she’s not the only one who has that dependency. She can also hear Mulder’s voice in her head – the way he banged on the side of the trailer, bellowing her name like his life depended on it. She could still his frantic calls as he smashed through the door, gun raised and pupils wide. It touches her that all that screaming was for her. Scully lets herself relax, face pressing into the familiar chest, and she lets out a few stuttering breaths. Mulder rubs circles in her back.

Before long, they break apart, but Mulder moves his hand down to hers, catching her fingertips. She looks at him. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is quiet, as if speaking too loud would shatter the night. 

“Yes,” she answers. This time, she’s more truthful. There’s still a lot she has to unpack after this case, but she can do it another day. Why worry about Schnauz when there’s someone worried about her? “But, it’s late. I don’t want you driving back in the dark.”

Mulder can tell by her expression that it’s a lie, but he says nothing. “I could crash here,” he suggests. 

Scully nods gratefully, and goes to get him a blanket. When she comes back, Mulder has carefully hung his shirt and tie on the back of a chair. “To wear to work tomorrow,” he grins. Scully wrinkles her nose but says nothing, just happy that he decided to stay. She heads to her bedroom. 

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

“Goodnight, Scully.”

Scully closes her bedroom door with a click, then reconsiders. She leaves the door halfway open and climbs into bed. She can hear Mulder’s deep breathing, and as she listens she closes her eyes and falls asleep. 

The alarm rings too soon for Scully’s liking. She shuts it off forcefully, almost knocking it off the table, and she hears a groan from the other room. Instantly, she’s sitting upright, reaching for her gun, until she remembers who it is. 

She walks into the living room, where Mulder is now standing, arms over his head as he stretches out the kinks in his back from sleeping on the couch. 

“Hi,” he beams at her. 

“Hey.” Scully’s cheeks heat up. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Thank you, Scully wants to say. For everything you do for me. She wants to say a million things, some personal, some not, but instead she settles with “I hate hearing my alarm go off.” 

By the time both of them have finished showering, Scully calling first dibs because this was her house, after all, shut up Mulder, she knows they’re going to be late. She wonders what everyone would think of them walking in late together. She doubts anyone would notice. By the time she’s locking her door behind her and they’re walking towards the street, Scully’s heels clicking on the pavement, they’re definitely going to be late. 

They pause in front of their cars. It seems wrong to take two cars after the night’s events. 

“Come on,” Mulder says, walking towards his car. “I’ll drop you off here after work. You can buy me a coffee on the way to thank me. I might even run a few red lights so we get there in time.” He grins at her, eyes sparkling. 

Scully sighs, exasperated, but she gives him a fond smile and gets into the passenger seat anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> i'm thinking about making this into a series - msr hurt/comfort one shots based on episodes. i already have one written from season 1, but never posted it because i wasn't the biggest fan. lmk what you guys think and if I should post that one too! <3 i'm also @waltskinners/@paulblofish on tumblr stop and say hi!


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